Flame in the Darkness
by clevamugglegrl03
Summary: Without her family and most of her friends, what’s a girl to do but sulk? Now here she is, the once warm Ginny Weasley, cold as ice and living in the shadiest of ways. Merlin knows she can’t save herself, but maybe somebody else can. Full Summary Inside


**Flame in the Darkness**

By Clevamugglegrl03

Edited by Melanctha

**Full Summary:** The Wizarding World's worst scenario has played out before their very eyes. Voldemort had triumphed in the final battle and a sullen darkness had fallen. Now, Ginny Weasley lives a heart wrenching life forced into the filthiest of careers only to put food on the table. With only Hermione at her side, who says she'll ever break out of her depression? Until that one faithful day when silvery eyes meet chocolate brown, her whole life turns upside down and inside out. Who knew it would be for the better…with _him. _

**Disclaimer:**

Harry: What just happened?

Ron: Bloody hell, Harry! You're…dead!

Harry: So are you.

Ron: Well, SHE wrote it.

Harry: JK Rowling?

Ron: No…Her!

Char: Me?

Ron: Yes you! And you want to know another thing-

Char: No not really…

Ron: You don't own us! Mwhahaha. I shall LIVE again!

Harry: Ron?

Char: **_(bonks the both of them on the head) _**SHUT UP! **_(Turns to face readers)_** Hello. I don't own Harry Potter…or the world in which our favorite characters inhabit. I do own some of the other characters that were born in MY brilliant mind. Thank you.

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**Prologue**: Lost in an Array of Darkness

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The rain that pitter-pattered on the windowpane could not have been any more appropriate for a night like this. The gray murky clouds hung over the town of London like a reminder of how bad things has gotten over the years. There was no longer a gap between the wizarding and muggle world seeing that most of the muggles had 'disappeared' in large masses. Sparks of red and green shimmered over the homes whose inhabitants lay sprawled on the floor, their eyes rolled up in their sockets and their bodies so cold and lifeless; it was as if they had been submerged into the depths of an ice covered lake. Malicious cackles rang harshly through the heavy air breaking the once peaceful sound of a rain shower.

Clutching her head with pale white hands, Ginevra Weasley sat in an abandoned corner of an old western styled bar. She wrung her fingers anxiously; the nails covered with chipped, blood red nail polish. Her once vibrant chocolate eyes darted from object to object in her new working environment. She rubbed her creased forehead viciously as if whatever touched her there was making her sick. Sick of this place, sick of her home, sick of her living arrangements, but mostly, she was sick of herself. How…dirty she has become. What would her mother say if she saw her only daughter in a place like _this_? A place filled with completely finished beer bottles without a drop to spare, drunken men with stale whiskey that hung in their breath, and the disgusting girls that happened to enjoy getting paid for their…_services._ Ginny shook her head slowly, acknowledging that there was one other girl here that was sane, that personally took care of Ginny and hid her away from anything that could lead to any more possible damage.

"Gins? Gins, where are you?"

Hermione…

"Ginny, at least come out to eat. I had something cooked for you. You weren't looking too well this morning," came a worried voice as it slowly came closer to her shadowed corner. Ginny pulled her legs closer to her chest, the jean of her mini skirt being pulled down to no avail in the process. The dim lighting flickered over Ginny's face, showing the pale sunken look to it. Her fiery red hair was damp and smelly; her lips were chapped yet bled in some places from biting down to hard. Her skin looked splotchy and somewhat wrinkled with several bags underneath her lifeless chocolate eyes, a very sad image for a girl of only nineteen, turning twenty in August.

"I'm not hungry," she spat out as she turned her head away from Hermione's thoughtful expression.

Hermione was relentless. "Ginny," she cooed. "Come on now, you haven't eaten all day. You must be hungry."

"Stop acting like my bloody mother!" Ginny hissed as she scooted further into her corner, the dust flying around her hair. "Eat it yourself, if you're so keen."

"I ate half already, Ginny," was Hermione's calm response. That irritated Ginny even more. She tried closing her eyes and imagining she wasn't here, in this cold God forsaken place, but it was useless. The shouts of the customers were slurred and despicable but were coming a bit too loudly and reverberating in Ginny's head.

"HEY! What am I paying you girls for? GET OUT THERE AND WORK!"

"They're calling you," Ginny coaxed as she scooted back in the corner so no one could see her, find her.

Hermione just shook her head and glanced behind her. She bit her lip in nervousness then lifted Ginny's chin with her finger. She made Ginny look her in the eye, a serious expression playing on her face. "If we've made it this far, it'd be a waste to see you get sick. Do you know how hard it'll be to find you a decent doctor? Much less to pay for one!"

The light flickered and a howl could be heard as a beer bottle was slammed against the counter's surface. A middle-aged man in his early 40s, one of the regulars, glanced hungrily at Hermione. "Whatchya doin' down there, little missy?" he asked, his eyes scanning over her. "I need a little refill here, Babe."

"Just a second, sir," Hermione answered a slight hint of agitation in her voice. She placed the plate down that was somewhat dirty, with the stains of old chicken wings. Something fried lay in it on top of an old piece of cut off lettuce. Ginny pushed the plate away aggressively.

"No. Let me die! Who's going to care, honestly?" she cried, her hands flying to her face to cover her eyes. She sunk back, her voice quivering as she tried to find more to say. The owner knocked on the counter as a warning, his fist clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.

Hermione glanced back at her boss, and then back to Ginny who sat sickeningly thin. She growled as she snapped. "You get a hold of yourself, Ginevra!" she yelled as she inched closer. "You eat this now, or so help me…"

Ginny raised her small head, her eyes brimming with tears. "Shut up," she commanded, her voice dangerously low. "I hate-"

WHACK! And with a swift motion, Hermione's hand came in contact with Ginny's right cheek The sound echoed harshly through the small bar. Everything went silent and everyone disappeared; it was just Hermione and she. Ginny's hand flew to her stinging cheek as she glanced up at her friend, waiting for some sort of explanation or apology. When she received neither, her temper flared lighting a sudden fire under her warm eyes. She glared at Hermione with an expression so fierce she could have burned holes right through Hermione's skull.

Clutching the splintered wall, Ginny slowly stood up making her clothing come into view. She was dressed in a short jean miniskirt, the edges worn and frayed as if it had been cut off with dull-edged scissors. The waistline was abnormal, dipping down into a sharp V. A tie, striped with faded crimson and gold, served as a peculiar belt that wrapped around her thin waist. The tight, moss green strip of fabric she called a shirt, dug into her ribs making her feel like she couldn't breathe. It was uncomfortable to wear, as she was used to wearing her brother's old t-shirts and jeans. She dropped her gaze. Her brothers…

While Ginny was lost in her memories, Hermione had already resumed her work as she bent over the tabletop to replace empty bottles. Suddenly, a new customer burst in to the bar with a rather large party of friends, causing the waitresses to groan inwardly. The youngest of the group seemed quite taken by Hermione and slid an arm around her waist as she tried to gather his used dishes.

"Why don't you take a load off, sweet thing? I'm sure you can take five," he whispered hotly into her ear. Her nose wrinkled when she detected strong traces of beer lingering in his breath.

Hermione hardened considerably as she ripped his filthy arm away from her. "You're new here, so I'll let you off with a warning, you little brat," she seethed, smacking the side of his head. "I'm too high maintenance for you anyways. And, to be honest, I'm still wondering where your babysitter is."

"High maintenance, my arse!" was the childish response she received. Hermione glared at the party through narrow eyes.

"Doll, I've got you in my pocket. What will your boss say when he hears about you pulling that little hitting stunt on a loyal customer?" the young intoxicated man slurred. His eyes lifted up to hers lazily, as his hand sought out hers. "You wouldn't want that now would you?"

"Loyal? Oh please, you've been here once."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it," came a silky voice from behind Hermione. She turned around, her expression perplexed. Her gaze met to that of another waitress. Her small hands, covered in fake French nails, rested on her slim hips. Her long honey blonde hair swayed from side to side as she walked, just slightly hitting the waistline of her black leather skirt. She sneered down at the small party, her electric green eyes searching. Only one woman had that much confidence in a place like this: Giselle.

"'Mione, take a break. I'll cover your tables for you," Giselle uttered calmly as she ran a hand through her long blonde locks. She bent forward, lightly placing her hand on the surface of the wooden table, and winked at the guests. She straightened up and without making eye contact with a certain bushy brown haired girl; she whispered, "I think your friend needs you." After patting Hermione quickly on the back, she sauntered forward to her new batch of rowdy men.

Hermione strode away after whispering a soft 'thank you' to her friend. How many times has Giselle pulled her out of an uncomfortable situation at work? It was as if she had a guardian angel clad in leather watching over her, something Hermione had tried desperately to become for Ginny. She had to admit that perhaps Ron's tendency to be overprotective had rubbed off on her as she cared for his "baby sister". Yet, this feeling was different. Ginny doesn't have the strength anymore to make herself independent. All she knew right now was how to push away, how to keep her distance. How many times did Hermione wonder what Ginny would say if she one day told her, "Being independent doesn't always mean being alone." Her life, her body, her every action was on autopilot. She did the same thing every day as they stayed in the room above the bar, working downstairs to pay the rent and eat pathetic amounts of food. Get up. Go work. Eat a bite. Go to sleep. It was a never-ending cycle, but it was life.

Hermione turned around the corner, expecting to see Ginny still sulking in the shadows. When she saw that her assumption was wrong, she whirled around while her eyes darted from side to side in a heated frenzy. A flash of fiery red hair appeared in the split seconds that lightening lit up the dark sky. She ran to the window, her head pressed gently against the glass. What in the name of Merlin was Ginny doing out there?

The door flung open as Hermione reached out, getting ready to pull her back in. Forgetting that she was mad at her, Hermione clung onto the doorpost as she opened her mouth to yell at Ginny to come back inside before she caught a cold. But then, she immediately stopped. As the light filtered out into the dreary darkness of the midsummer storm, she saw Ginny on her knees her eyes gazing longingly to the heavens. Her arms were spread wide and Hermione could not tell if she was crying because of the rain that splattered tenderly on her sullen expressionless face.

"Mum? Dad? I'm missing you. Why did you have to go?" Ginny whimpered falling suddenly as thunder roared overhead.

Too many people had faded to darkness trying to bring light to the world, to finish Voldemort once and for all. She pushed herself back onto her knees. They dug into the sodden ground beneath her. She had lost almost everything worth living for. Harry was gone; his corpse too torn up, too miserably decapitated to be recognizable. The few aurors that remained living were forced to glance down at the markings written mockingly on a wooden plaque with blood red ink.

_**Here lies the infamous Harry Potter: The boy who just wouldn't die. **_

_**Thank the Gods he's finally gone!**_

_Yeah, gone with the rest of my family_, Ginny thought bitterly as her gaze dropped to the broken blades of grass she crushed beneath her bruised knees. Her salty tears mingled with the droplets of water that splashed over her cheeks stained by a faint blush. She shivered as the howling wind blew past, dancing through the trees in the night. The abandoned street surrounding the bar was nothing more than wet pavement glistening under the occasional streetlight. How, in such a small matter of days, did she loose everything? Her small rough hands grasped the ground beneath her as she let out an ominous wail, her red hair clashing with the green of the grass and the dark of night. The rain poured heavier as the world cried along side a lost child of the light.

* * *

A crumpled piece of parchment laid forgotten on the desk, discarded as if a mere piece of junk mail. A midnight black owl sat in his cage, his beady yellow eyes gleaming over the room consumed by the night. The faint light of the candle barely illuminated the unearthly scrawl set in frightening red ink. The moonlight filtered in from the open window, casting a bluish glow on the letter. A mug of lukewarm pumpkin juice lay beside it, evidence of inhabitance in the old manor. A dark serpent green robe was sprawled over the arm of a musty couch positioned underneath the window.

_I trust you can finally prove yourself a worthy and loyal member. Make your father proud. It would be a shame if he were to turn in his grave, knowing that his only son was a failure. You know your mission. Find the little brat. I'll speak with her soon enough, when she's ready and knows her importance. We are not to give up; she knows something that is vital to my reign. Is that understood? Do not harm her. Charm her, if you will. The closer she is to you the better. No mistakes, Draco. _

The wind flowed through causing the flame of the candle to dance. It flickered slightly before it was blown completely out although the sudden change was left unnoticed. Creaks on the floorboard upstairs was all that were heard before the secluded manor fell into silence.

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End Note: Congratulations! You made it through my Prologue! I'd like to say thanks to Melanctha for being my wonderful and patient Editor. She also writes stories so please check out her stories as well! I love all my readers but all my reviewers are SPECIAL! Don't you want to be special? Well you can be by clicking on that wonderful little button. Review, please and thank you! 


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